Transformation
by Liasis
Summary: A short drabble concerning the process of Remus Lupin's transformation into a werewolf. Written for Mugglenet Interactive in 2009.


Remus closed the door to his small flat, locked it, and let the key fall into his pocket. He turned on his heel and looked into the setting sun. He squinted, his brown hair falling around his face. Times were difficult for him; Nymphadora was heavily pregnant, and the baby could come any day now. He wished, more than he had ever wished before, that he did not have to deal with this.

A brisk wind, hinting of the spring, swirled past his grizzled face. The scars from his last time had only just healed, and he was not keen on receiving any more. Remus walked calmly past the other flats, along the street, and stepped into a dark alleyway, hoping that no one was watching. He turned on the spot, and felt the usual vertigo that came with Apparating overtake him.

He landed softly on the leaf litter beneath his feet in the woods that he had come to know as his own, the chosen spot for his transformations, miles away from any human contact. Yes, he knew it almost as well as the forests outside of Hogwarts which he had explored in his youth, although that memory, along with everyone it held, had faded. They were the only times in his life when changing had not been so terrible. He had even looked forward to them, on occasion, as times to spend with James, Sirius, and Peter which he would not otherwise have had. Now, however, he was alone.

He had to hurry, or it would be too late; the sun was almost gone. Remus took off his shabby jacket and put his wand in the inside pocket, rolling it up carefully and placing it in the nearby hollow of a tree for safe-keeping. He then proceeded to disrobe, putting the rest of his clothes with his other things. The most important thing was for him to place distance between himself and his things, so that they would be there the next morning, undisturbed. He began walking, and headed off with the sun to his back, facing the moon. This was the worst part, the waiting part. Sometimes, it didn't happen right away. Other times, he would barely be pulling his vest off when he felt the sensation of his blood turning hot, his heart straining to keep up….

And as he thought these thoughts, it started. He hated it, he hated himself, for allowing it to happen, and all these feelings of rage seemed to help his transformation quicken. He fell on the ground, writhing in pain, as he felt his nose become a snout, his legs and arms lengthening and becoming paws, long brown hair sprouting, the painful widening of his ribcage which made him feel as though his ribs would crack. He never knew when it was that he lost his mind, lost his mind to the creature, the monster that he became.

He cried into the mossy ground, but it came out through his lips as gentle whimpers, as though he was cooing to the ground. The werewolf that he had become teetered on its shaky limps as it stood up, first on its four paws and then on its back legs, no longer weak but now alert, smelling the air around it as though curious as to where it was. It rubbed its side against the tree as it fell back onto its four paws, and began prowling the area, listening intently to any sounds that were made. Its paws were clawed but with five long fingers, more human than canine.

Sticks cracked underneath the creature's weight, and it could smell the birds nestled in the trees above. It walked underneath the moonlight which dappled the forest floor, weaving in and out of the trees. The forest was thicker here, and it brushed its face against brambles, although generally steering clear of major obstacles with the use of its keen eyesight. It splashed through a river, and then waited on the banks for fish to swim by, dipping its eerily long fingers into the water to grab some prey.

It could smell and hear everything around it as it sank its fangs into the fish which still wriggled, devouring it quickly and then poising itself over the slow running water to catch others. The air was warmer than it had been for many months, but the ground was still hard from winter and the trees lay bare of any leaves. The werewolf broke into a run, needing to release the energy within it, and went on this way until early morning.

At the break of dawn, a mild wind ruffled through Remus's hair. He was exhausted, too tired even to remember his own transformation back into himself. He shook terribly, the pain shooting within his bones. The man stood up, concentrated as well as he could, and Apparated back to where his clothes and wand were. They lay in the hollow of the tree where he had left them, undisturbed, and he groaned as he put them on. He was so stiff that he could barely move, and ached in every way imaginable. Remus quickly Apparated back to the alleyway by his apartment and found a way to make it back to his doorway without collapsing.

His wife answered the door. He could only press the doorbell to ring it, knowing that fumbling with a key or his wand would only cause himself frustration. She ushered him inside, quickly but calmly, a cheery expression which hid her intense pain upon her face. Dora led him to their bed where she made him lie down, helped him out of the clothes he had only just put on, and directed him to drink the Numbing Draught she had brewed for him. She quickly wiped off his cuts, dabbing them with essence of dittany softly, and kissed his forehead, knowing that in a few moments, he would be peacefully asleep and away from him own nightmare.


End file.
